


The Glint of Light on Broken Glass

by xyrilyn



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #FuelForRadiance, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Empath!Will, Fluff, Happy Ending, King!Hannibal, Light Angst, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyrilyn/pseuds/xyrilyn
Summary: Will Graham had but two things that he could call his own:His name....and his words.And he was happy - as happy as someone in his position could ever be....Until he met Hannibal. Then he learnt what it was like to know true happiness......And then to have it all taken away.





	The Glint of Light on Broken Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass. - **Anton Chekhov**
> 
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> This was written during the [Radiance Anthology kickstarter](https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/lovecrimecat/radiance-a-fannibal-anthology) to celebrate its milestones and stretch goals. #FuelForRadiance ( Writing and editing took... much longer than I had anticipated. Welp. )
> 
> Thank you, my fellow fannibals, for making this anthology happen.
> 
> Much love, a very new fannibal <3
> 
> \- chibilysis (xyrilyn)

William Graham had very little that he could call his own. He had lived - survived - mostly off his good luck. Whatever deity that looked upon this world must have had a protective hand over him the entirety of his life because he was sure he should already be dead - like most others in his situation.

He had nothing: no food, shelter, or money.

He had no one: no parents, siblings, or relatives.

Each and every day was a struggle to survive, to scrape together just enough firewood to keep him warm through the night, to gather and forage just enough food to last him until his next meal.

Once upon a time, he had relied on the charity of people - the goodness of people - to get by. He had learned the hard way how naive he was.

He was working himself to exhaustion every single day still, but it was a way of life he had long resigned himself to.

William Graham was content with having no material wealth. He had but two things that he could call his own:

His name.

...and his words.

And he was happy - as happy as someone in his position could ever be.

.

.

.

The prince was to be crowned King today. It was a joyous event.

It was during events like these that offered him ample opportunity to pilfer food from the stores. Will knew better than to try and steal the freshly made products displayed all neatly in rows at the front of the shops and so he went into their kitchens and storage rooms instead, where he knew the non-perishables were stored.

Hard bread, pickles, jerky, salted fish, potatoes--- He grabbed all of them and stuffed them into his vine-woven bag. Seeing a jar of sweet cream on the counter, Will stalled.

_'Should I...?'_

Throwing all caution to the wind, Will snatched it and left the way he came.

He repeated the same process for every shop on that street. He left the smaller homes alone. The reports of his stealing would raise security in the lower town for weeks, so he needed to stockpile on as much food as he possibly can. He would not be returning to the lower town for a while after that.

Tightening the twine around the opening of his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and darted into the shadows that crept along the outer wall. With whispered words of a language long forgotten, the shadows clung to him as he made his way along the perimeter towards the gates. He waited for a large trade carriage to come along before sneaking underneath the wooden supports.

The guards never checked under the carriages when they were outbound. This worked perfectly in his favour.

Once far enough from the gates - and the guards - Will rolled out from under the carriage and ran blindly into the forest. With just the light from the moon as his sole companion, Will camped by a small stream for the night, huddling close to the fire and having just jerky for dinner. He fell asleep with a small smile, knowing that the forest would watch over him.

.

.

.

A plague had struck the land. Food was increasingly scarce. Will felt the guilt of his actions weeks prior come into play.

He had taken a lot of food that day. He had enough to feed himself for months when coupled with daily foraging and his words of preservation for all the natural produce he had, but not everyone was like him. The food he had taken could mean life or death for the families he had robbed from.

Sighing, he turned to his life-long companion for help.

"Please?" he pleaded.

The forest answered his words and granted him a dozen pumpkins - golden and beautiful and magical.

.

.

.

"Sire, there has been news of strange happenings in the lower town."

The King looked up from the letters he had been reading. He motioned for the news-bearer to continue.

"The people have found pumpkins - massive, plump and perfectly-ripe - on the doorsteps of their houses. No one knows anything about where they came from."

"The farmlands have been dead for weeks. Everyone is on grain rations. Where could the pumpkins have come from?"

The King's advisors all shared looks of confusion. "No farm in this land grows such pumpkins. They were shining gold and twice the normal size of any pumpkin we do grow."

"Station two guards to keep watch on that street. I want to learn the identity of this person. No harm is to come to this person, of course."

After the guards left, one of the advisors spoke up.

"We should interrogate this mysterious man. This sounds an awful lot like the work of magic!" he hissed.

The King shot the advisor who had said that a cold look. "It appears to me that this anonymous person is trying to feed my people. If anything, we should be asking him to see if he could help us find a cure for the plague that is weakening the kingdom." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Chilton. You would do well to remember that it was I who amended the laws regarding humans with supernatural abilities. Do not allow your biases to cloud your judgement."

"Sire. With all due respect, magic _always_ backfires on non-magical folk. History has proven that this has happened more than just a handful of times."

"You sound so sure that it is magic."

"Only magic can do something like this."

.

.

.

Will had found a small cave he could hide in until the plague was over. With the plague, perimeter control around the capital was tighter than ever. They didn't want anyone sneaking beyond the outer walls to trade food illegally with the black market dealers. Rations were tight - very tight - but Will heard rumours that the castle's rationing would ensure that the majority survived. The weak, the already malnourished and the sick, however... were most likely to perish.

Placing a hand on a the trunk of a tree, he rubbed at it, feeling the rough bark bite into his skin.

"What should I do...?" His voice came out strained.

 _'Do what you think is right. If you want to save them, then go ahead. We'll be here for you when you decide to return to us.'_ An airy voice of indeterminable gender floated through his mind.

Will smiled, feeling a single teardrop slide down his cheek. He wiped it away.

"I promised I wouldn't interfere. Not again."

_'Yet, your heart tells you to go to them. The humans need you. So go.'_

"Will the both of you watch over me?"

_'Always.'_

.

.

.

Will could tell they were watching. Let them watch, he thought.

Depositing the fruits on the doorsteps of houses he hadn't visited yet, he flitted from house to house and from shop to shop, making sure to keep his footsteps light and soundless so as to not wake the slumbering people inside.

He heard them approaching, the metal clicks of their armour getting closer and closer. He let them catch him.

"You there. Stop what you are doing."

Will pretended to stiffen.

"We mean you no harm. The King has ordered us to find you and escort you to the castle to see him. It'd be best if you co-operate, boy."

Putting the last apple on the ground, Will stood up and dusted his scruffy clothes.

"I'm not a boy. I'm almost seventeen."

"Whatever kid. Let's go." They clearly didn't believe him.

Will never saw the King. He was put into the dungeons, given thick wool bedding - a luxury, all things considered - and was left to his own devices for the night. The next morning, he was manhandled into a carriage and brought to the villages where the plague was first reported and then left to do his 'magic' as they called it.

He could smell the disease in the water. The soldiers had thought him insane when he began speaking to the water to leave the villagers alone. They couldn't understand his words, so they left him alone after the first hour. It took Will a few hours, but it worked.

The malevolent spirit poisoning the water in the land left after he had convinced it that killing the land wasn't a good way to exact revenge. And so the spirit left, the water was cleansed, and the land purified. Nature had its own way of repairing itself. Will didn't need to do anything else.

Crops began growing again. The harvests were bountiful. A feast was to be had in celebration of the plague passing. The people never knew the truth.

Will made sure he disappeared and that no one could ever find him.

.

.

.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. People forgot. His face was particularly easy to forget, he liked to think. It had been some time since his disappearing act, so he deemed it safe to return once more. His hair was longer now - the dark curls now framing his face fully.

Leaning against the stone balustrade, Will cast his eyes downwards and observed how healthy and happy everyone looked.

"You look so sad."

A feminine voice drifted over to him, startling in its gentleness. Will turned. "...Hello," he greeted.

A young lady - clad in a dress cut from the finest silk - smiled at him. "Hello. My name is Alana. What's yours?"

Alana Bloom. Lady of the House of Bloom. One of the many advisors of the King.

"I'm Will. It's an honour to meet you, my lady."

"Oh my, what good manners... Hannibal will like you," she said, laughing.

"The King has better things to do than to be spending time with the likes of me," Will said, laughing self-deprecatingly.

"You always stand here and people-watch. I only know this because I do the same thing. You took my favourite spot, you know..."

Somehow, Alana's words made him laugh. It was refreshing, being able to laugh like that. He'd almost forgotten how his laugh sounded like.

"I apologise, I didn't mean to," Will began, "I am open to sharing, if you don't mind my company."

Alana smiled, absolutely charmed. "You're adorable. How old are you?"

"Seventeen," he said without missing a beat.

"My apologies, I did not mean to... You look very young. I thought you were younger than that - fifteen, at most."

"Yeah... It's a blessing and a curse in disguise," Will said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I often have a hard time trying to convince people that I'm actually older than how I look."

"Nature has blessed you with a youthful appearance. It's a blessing, not a curse. I'm sure, given time, you won't need to convince people of the truth behind your words," Alana said, hinting at something Will did not quite understand. "Would you care to join me for supper tonight?" she offered.

Taken aback, Will couldn't formulate a proper reply.

"You have the look of someone who is lost. My father had the same look. He committed suicide a week after."

She was wrong, but Will didn't bother correcting her. This was how he always was.

"Will you join me? It would alleviate my worries greatly."

Will nodded, seeing no harm in agreeing to a nice, hot meal for tonight. "Okay."

.

.

.

Will was given his own room, clean clothes - finer than anything that he had ever owned - and his own basin and toiletries to wash up with. It wouldn't do to look as dirty as he was and join a Lady for supper.

"You clean up very well," she said when she saw him walk in.

"It's all thanks to you, my lady."

Will counted the number of chairs set up at the table. He frowned. Alana was not sitting at the head of the table. Instead, she was sitting two seats away.

"...Can I ask who else is joining us tonight?"

"You may. It's just the King and one of his advisors."

Will paled. "I-I shouldn't- I... The King-" he stuttered. His words bled a mixture of anger, worry and confusion.

"Will. It's alright. The three of us... Hannibal, Jack and I go way back. I didn't mean to put you off like this. Please stay and listen to what we - and the King, especially - have to say."

Will deflated. He took a deep breath. "I ought to be angry that you set me up like this."

"I'm sorry." Alana motioned to the empty seat beside her - it was the seat on the right side of the head of the table.

"How did you know?" he asked, taking the seat and resigning himself to the ambush.

"One of the guards from that night recognised you when he was passing by. It was a mere coincidence, really. Then... things snowballed from there."

"...What do you want from me then?" Will asked.

"Oh, Will..."

"Humans always want more. It's in their nature."

"You speak as if you are not human." A new voice joined the conversation. Two new sets of footsteps approached.

"I was merely generalising." Will rolled his eyes.

The King sat down at the head of the table, with his advisor - Jack - to his left. The servants brought the food in on shiny silver platters a moment afterwards. Will paid them no attention, eyes focused solely on the King. The King stared back at him.

"I hope you bear no ill feelings for Alana for her springing this on you. It was done under my orders."

"I don't. I'm rather curious to see where this will lead us." Taking the fork into this right hand and the knife into his left, Will began cutting the steak into neat pieces with poise and practised movements.

The King smiled, apparently pleased at Will's table manners. He proceeded to do the same. His advisors exchanged wary looks.

"May I inquire your name?" the King asked with a charming smile.

"You're the King, of course you may," Will said with a sly grin, "My name's Will."

"Just Will?"

Will nodded, albeit a bit too stiffly to be entirely convincing.

"I would like to personally extend my gratitude to you for curing the plague. My people are alive because of your noble actions."

Will laughed, eyes lit with mirth. "You could have just said I helped you secure your reign." Will hoped he hadn't been too rude with his words.

The King smirked, not at all offended. "That, too."

Dessert was chocolate cake topped with cream. He dipped his spoon into the cream first, moaning softly when he felt the cream melt in his mouth.

"Bring us another bowl of the cream," the King said to the servant. The servant girl bowed low and scurried out of the room. She returned with a small bowl of the fluffy white substance and Will couldn't help but smile when he realised it was all for him.

"Jack, Alana," the King said. They had been silent the entire dinner. They nodded, as if on cue.

"Will. The Court wishes to extend our formal invitation for you to join the Court as the Court Magician," Jack recited smoothly.

Alana joined in. "Will you accept the position?"

Stunned, Will turned to stare at all three of them in a cycle. Then, he broke down in a fit of laughter.

"C-Court Magician? Don't you think it's a little... hammy? What will I be expected to do, anyway?"

"Your magical abilities clearly set you above the majority. The title is only befitting of someone of your status. We will only consult you when problems of the magical-kind surface again. You won't be expected to do anything else," the King told him. Will was surprised the King was the one trying to convince him to take the position. It was usually the members of the Court that did the recruiting work.

"...Nothing of what I can do is magic, sire-"

"Call me Hannibal," the King interjected, to the surprise of everyone else on the table.

"Uh... O-Okay. It's not magic, Hannibal..."

"What is it, then?" Hannibal leaned forward in apparent interest, elbows resting on the table.

"I call it... ecological empathy. I have a sort of... connection with the natural and spiritual environment. They can see me... and I can see them. I use my words to talk with them, and they listen."

"Is that how you cured the plague? You... convinced the disease to leave?" Hannibal asked.

Will nodded. "Something like that. I convinced the spirit poisoning the water to leave. The water was suffering, bearing the brunt of the disease. The land suffered as collateral damage. It manifested itself as a plague. Well... you know the rest."

"That's amazing, Will," Alana breathed, eyes wide with awe.

Unaccustomed to praise, Will ducked his head, blushing. He carved another piece of cake with his spoon.

"I'm interested in the position. Will- Will I be expected to move to the castle?"

Jack nodded. "Yes. Arrangements will be made to ensure that your room and workspace are as comfortable as you'd like."

Will gave a mirthless chuckle. "I-I'm most likely going to give you a hard time. I apologise for that in advance."

"This is a major decision, Will. We completely understand if you want your rooms tailored exactly to your tastes," Alana reassured him.

Will shook his head. "No, no, it's not that... I move around a lot. I almost never sleep in the same place for more than a week unless there are special circumstances. It's just..." Will struggled to find the right words. He wanted them to _understand_. "Stone walls are dead to me."

"Stone walls are dead to your empathy. They block your connection to nature. Being in enclosed, man-made spaces for prolonged periods of time is suffocating for you."

That. _That was exactly it_. Will couldn't have explained it better himself, and Hannibal did it so easily.

Will turned to Hannibal. "Y-Yes. That's exactly how it feels like..."

With an infinitesimal tilt of his head, Hannibal said, "I have a room overlooking the royal garden with a wide skylight that I usually use for reading and sketching. If you'd like, you can have it as your personal chambers instead."

The idea of having access to the sky at all times was highly appealing. Will found himself nodding. "If it isn't too much of a hassle for you..."

Hannibal smiled charmingly. "It is no problem at all, my dear Will. In fact, I'm pleased that you decided to accept the court's offer."

"I can't exactly turn down an official position where I can help lots of people, can I?" Will began, shrugging, "Besides, I don't need to hide any more."

Alana's smile turned a bit strained at the mention of that. "Yes... Hannibal made a great number of revolutionary amendments to the kingdom's laws when he claimed the throne. Those with supernatural talents are not second-class citizens any more."

"I'm glad," Will acknowledged with a nod and a small smile. Hannibal eyed him as he sipped his wine.

"For formalities' sake, we need a verbal answer. Will, do you accept the position of Court Magician?" Jack prompted again.

Will hardly gave it a second thought. He wanted it - not with that name, though.

"Change the title to something else. Magic isn't what I do."

"Court Empath, then?" Hannibal suggested, putting down his wine glass.

Will did a one-shoulder shrug. "It's better than the Court Magician, at least."

"Court Empath it is then."

.

.

.

His room was modestly furnished. It had all the basics. To Will, this was the most luxurious accommodation he'd ever had the pleasure of calling his own.

"I've discussed your salary with Jack. We decided that a hundred gold coins per moon should suffice. Is the amount agreeable with you?"

"Yeah, it- it's fine."

"The King also specifically told me to give you this." Alana handed him a cloth bag. Whatever that was inside was heavy, and its edges hard and angular. "He says to use it well. Also, he invites you to have dinner with him tonight, if you are available. That's all. Have a good day, Will."

"You too, Alana. Thanks again."

Closing the doors, he went to sit on his bed - his own bed! - and untied the twine that held the bag closed. The cloth fell open to reveal a beautifully-sculpted mahogany box. It was about the size of a thick tome, standing as tall as his fist. Will ran a finger along the mysterious carvings, wondering if they held any particular symbolism before unlocking the golden latch at the side. He flipped it open.

Inside were glimmering jewels of all shapes and sizes, but that was not what took his breath away.

Atop the pile of precious gemstones was a silver-chain pendant. The crystal was teardrop-shaped, translucent and the colour of sea-foam blue - the exact shade of his eyes. He picked it up - it was unusually heavy - and noticed that it shone brilliantly under light. He could hear the whispers of the sea coming from the stone. None of the other jewels responded to his touch like this.

Will highly doubted this was a mere coincidence. He put on the pendant anyway.

Dinner that night was simple. The King had a table set up for the both of them by the window - a gesture Will thanked him for. They spoke about all sorts of things - mostly trivial matters - but Will enjoyed the conversation either way.

Leaving after dinner was rather awkward though. Will's chambers were just down the hall from the King's own, but Hannibal being Hannibal, he insisted on walking Will back to his chambers anyway. The walk took only a few seconds.

"Thanks for the company tonight. It was nice. The castle is so big, it's rather lonely." Will was blabbering at this point so he forced himself to shut up.

"You'll get used to the castle soon enough. I grew up here, and have had plenty of time to explore. There are many places in this castle that no one knows of... I wonder how many of them you will find," Hannibal left him with those mysterious words before wishing him good night.

Will stared at his receding figure until Hannibal had disappeared back into his own rooms. Hannibal's parting words were on loop in his mind, Will trying to figure out what Hannibal could possibly be hinting at.

Knowing the man, it could mean anything.

.

.

.

Will spent most of his days perusing the books in the castle's library and in Hannibal's personal archive. Hannibal had granted him free access to his collection when Will asked for it by giving him a copy of the key to the room, no questions asked. Will was aware that Hannibal kept his personal journals in there - he had come across several of them by accident - but he made no attempt to read them. Will was curious - of course - but he respected Hannibal's privacy, and so he would not touch them until Hannibal explicitly said it was okay for him to do so.

The King was almost always preoccupied with matters of ruling the kingdom. Will rarely attended the daily audiences the people had with the King, but during the one time he had, Will had been bored out of his mind. Hannibal - observant as ever - had realised this and deliberately sent him to complete a vague task that both of them knew was just an excuse for him to leave. Will never attended them again.

Whispers going around the castle told Will that he had gained a new reputation among the folk living and working in the castle. A handful of them believed him to be useful, but disturbed - his ability having permanently impaired his ability to connect emotionally with others. The majority believed him to be the King's not-so-secret lover. Will scoffed whenever he heard the servants mentioning it. He wondered what Hannibal would think if he knew.

Before Will knew it, he began falling into a routine that he thoroughly enjoyed.

His mornings were spent breakfasting with Hannibal. Sometimes, they were joined by Jack and Alana. After that, Hannibal would work on his paperwork. Occasionally, Will assisted him when he felt like it. Then came lunch - also with Hannibal, usually in Hannibal's own chambers because he preferred the privacy there. Afternoons were the only part of Will's day that distinguished one day from another. On some days, Will would be reading or writing. On other days, he might be helping out the physician with matters regarding herbology, discussing inane issues with the other members in Hannibal's Court, helping the Knights, or simply exploring the woods.

His evenings were entirely and completely taken up by Hannibal.

Hannibal used his evenings to unwind after a stressful day of work. He almost always had Will join him. Will often accompanied him, but they didn't necessarily talk. They simply enjoyed each other's presence. Will would read, and Hannibal would sometimes compose or play on his harpsichord, write or draw. When the sky was clear enough that the moon was bright and shining, they moved their activities to Will's chambers instead.

Alana stumbled upon them together in his own room, once. Needless to say, she was quite surprised.

"S-Sire? I apologise, I didn't know you were here... I wanted to give Will this," she motioned to the small basket hanging off her arm.

Will, at the time, was lounging in a mountain of pillows Hannibal had set up directly below the skylight for him. Hannibal had been the one to answer the door. Will didn't even try to get up. He only tilted his head to get a better look at their nightly visitor.

"Call me Hannibal, Alana. We're not assuming our formal positions now, so there is no need for such tiresome formalities. Thank you for the gift, I am sure Will appreciates it."

"Thanks Alana," Will called out then, chuckling. Hannibal and Alana both laughed in return.

"The kitchens made too much sweet cream and the harvest of honey this year was more bountiful than usual. I had some of the extras packed for you. I know how much you love them," Alana addressed this to Will, amusement dancing in her eyes. Will was aware of the image he made, sprawled over pillows like that... It was awfully immature, but it was so comfortable that he didn't give a damn how he looked like.

Hannibal took the gifts, thanking her once more and wishing her good night before shutting the door. He placed a jar of the cream on the floor beside Will and put the rest on the table.

"There are rumours, you know," Will started, opening the jar and dipping a finger into the cream before licking it off a moment later. The burst of sweetness made him sigh with content.

"Of what kind?" Hannibal said, walking over to the balcony.

"Of us."

"What do they say?" He sounded amused.

"Most of the castle inhabitants think we're secret lovers. It's clear as day that you treat me far differently from the others."

"This is whatever you make of it, Will. We need not give it a name, if you choose not to."

"I want to. Do you?"

Hannibal ducked his head, smiling. "I would not have answered the door on your behalf if I had any qualms about others knowing how we interact outside of our formal duties."

"You're more than just my friend, Hannibal. Your opinion matters to me."

"Just as yours matters to me. That is why I'm leaving the choice entirely in your hands."

They spoke nothing more on the matter. Will curled into the pillows, occasionally gazing up from his book to watch Hannibal draw. When Hannibal looked up from his sketchbook and met Will's gaze, he smiled - and Will smiled back. After a while, Will stopped trying to read and just watched Hannibal draw. The almost rhythmic scribbling of charcoal on paper eventually lulled him into slumber.

.

.

.

Will was in that hazy state between consciousness and unconsciousness when he heard Hannibal's voice calling out to him. Blinking his eyes open, he peered up at Hannibal, taking in all the minute details in his expression that informed him that something was wrong. Will frowned.

"What happened?" he said, voice rough from sleep.

"Let's get you dressed first. I'll brief you on the way."

A monster was terrorising the villages in the outskirts of the kingdom. Eyewitnesses described the monster as a chimera. Some said it was a grotesque fusion of a wolf and a snake. Whatever it was, it had killed eleven villagers over three nights, leaving nothing but mangled corpses. Judging from the locations where the corpses were discovered, it seemed that the creature was heading in the direction of the capital.

Hannibal decided that this called for an expedition. He did not want to see a massacre happen should the creature enter the lower town. Will's abilities were crucial for the party, considering the nature of the monster they were attempting to put down.

All of this had been discussed just minutes ago. Preparations were already being made.

"I shall be honest here and say that I do not want you there. It will be dangerous, and you have no fighting experience. You do not have to come if you think the risk is too high. "

"I'm not letting you ride out to danger just like that when I can help!" Will argued back.

"Will, I don't want you getting hurt-"

"I can't do that, Hannibal. I'm sorry." Will shook his head, crossing his arms. "The Court is right. I should be there."

Hannibal took a deep breath and sighed. He took one of Will's hands into his own, grasping it tightly.

"You will remain by my side at all times. _No exceptions_."

Will nodded. "I promise." He squeezed his hand back. It did not alleviate the worry he could see in Hannibal's eyes. It was comforting to know that Hannibal would watch over him - Will was not a skilled fighter after all. Still, this would be the most dangerous mission he had ever been involved in.

It took a few hours to gather the men and the supplies. Once that was done, they were ready to set out.

To Will's absolute horror and embarrassment, Hannibal had him ride pillion with him. He only needed to point out that Will had no fighting or riding experience for Will to acquiesce in his decision. The faces of shock that he was met with from Hannibal's soldiers told Will that this incident would be remembered. Whether this would tarnish Hannibal's reputation as King, he did not know.

They were minutes from riding off. Hannibal was still giving out some last minute instructions. Someone clapped a hand on his lower back then. Will looked down - It was Beverly.

Beverly Katz - one of the very few females among Hannibal's Knights. Females weren't allowed to be knighted before Hannibal claimed the throne. Now, the position was based purely on merit and ability, judged by Hannibal, who was a master swordsman himself. This alone spoke volumes about Beverly's abilities.

Will had grown rather close to the Knights during his stay in the castle. His abilities came in handy during difficult tracking missions and he'd been involved in quite a number of missions already. He was particularly close with Katz, Price and Zeller. They made a rather dysfunctional family of sorts, but they worked very well with each other.

"Hey. I heard you were joining us. I got you a little something..." She trailed off, reaching into the satchel at her side. She produced a sheathed dagger. "...It's easy to hide - just strap it onto your forearm and roll down your sleeves - but just as deadly as any other blade."

Will accepted the gift, mesmerised by the weight of the item in his hands. He had never held a blade before in his entire life.

"It was forged by one of the best blacksmiths in the land. My father made it for me," Beverly told him. Will saw the sadness in her eyes at the mention of her long deceased father, murdered by bandits in the night. "I don't need it any more. I have a new companion now," she said, resting her hand on the sword at her waist.

"Thank you, Beverly," Will said, honoured that she was giving him something so important to her. He pulled the dagger out from its leather pouch.

"That is a very fine looking blade indeed." Will heard Hannibal commenting before reaching over to take it into his hands, testing its weight. "Give me your arm, Will. I'll help you put it on." Beverly smiled and left them to it, walking away quietly.

It took a bit of awkward fumbling considering their positions on the horse, but they managed it. Will rolled down his sleeves to see how it would look like and found that he couldn't tell he had a blade strapped on at all.

"Does the weight bother you?" Hannibal asked, eyes on his arm.

Will shook his head. With an acknowledging nod, Hannibal turned back and brought his horse around so that he could face his men. He called for a roll-call and once everyone was accounted for, he set off in a gallop, the rest of his men trailing closely behind.

Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal's torso and watched the world around him blur from one scene into another.

.

.

.

Ankle-deep in the stream, Will stood still and breathed deeply. His eyes were closed, and the only sounds he could hear were soft breathing - his and Hannibal's - and the rushing of water.

Overhead, the moon was shining, bright and whole, its presence soothing. Will could feel Hannibal's piercing gaze on him.

"...It's me again. I have a favour to ask of you." The words that left his lips were not the common tongue spoken in this land. Will opened his eyes, dragging his gaze up to look at the moon.

"There is a creature roaming the forests and killing whatever that crosses its path. Can you locate it for me?"

_'I can. At the moment, it is currently evading detection by hiding its magical presence - it will come out into the open soon enough. Do you wish to take its life?'_

Will shrugged. His reply was honest. "If that is what it takes to stop the killing."

_'The creature is unnatural. It is an anomaly, even by our world's standards.'_

"Are you telling me that the spirits want it gone...?"

_'Yes. The creature has avoided intervention for far too long. We have deemed it necessary to employ more extreme measures to handle this. It seems that Fate has us working together again. Ask your human for his sword.'_

Switching tongues was awkward. Will coughed into a hand. "H-Hannibal."

Hannibal was on his feet and by Will's side in an instant, water splashing at their feet. "Will."

"I need your sword. Will you let me borrow it?"

"Of course," Hannibal said, unsheathing his sword and handing it over. He stepped back, giving Will his space.

_'Place the sword in the stream.'_

Once completely immersed in water, the blade began faintly glowing. It glowed brighter and brighter, almost blinding, until suddenly, the light faded.

_'The sword has been enchanted with the ability to kill cursed creatures and spirits now. Only this sword will be able to slay the monster you seek.'_

"Thank you."

_'You are welcome, my dear child.'_

"It's over, Hannibal." Will crouched to retrieve the sword.

"That was it?" The disappointment Will heard in his voice made him laugh.

"It's nothing very flashy - on my part, at least. I told you before, haven't I? What I do isn't magic."

Hannibal took the sword, inspecting it with a careful eye. Will was almost amused at his attempts at trying to see if there was anything physically different.

"An abnormal creature requires an abnormal means of killing it. The sword now has an enchantment that will be able to slay the creature for good. Ordinary human weapons won't be able to deal it a fatal blow, it seems."

"And its location?" Hannibal sheathed the sword.

"We don't know yet. It's probably in hiding. We need to wait until it comes out."

They began walking back to camp.

"What language were you speaking?"

The empath shrugged. "It probably has numerous other names, but in this land, they call it the Symbols. It's the language of the spirit realm. Magic-users should know it, too. It's the foundation behind the runes and patterns they use in spell-casting."

"I have never encountered such a user who uses the language like you do."

"I have never met another empath either. Not sure what to make of that, really."

Once back in camp, Will returned to their shared tent while Hannibal called for a meeting with his Knights, presumably to discuss their change in plans seeing that human weapons would not be able to kill the monster. The night was still young, so Will settled in to read. He had brought only a single book, one on herbology. He had curled up in the corner of the tent and propped their bedrolls up so that he could lean against them. This was the same position that Hannibal found him in, almost two hours later.

"...You should rest. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow."

"Was waiting for you," Will managed to say, his words slurred, before yawning. He put the book aside and began pulling open their bedrolls. He had them both ready by the time Hannibal stripped his armour and extinguished the lantern. Will crawled into his and sighed into the warm furs.

Will turned around when he heard Hannibal shuffling the bed around. The King had pushed their rolls together.

"...People are definitely gonna talk," Will mumbled, but not shying away from Hannibal's touch. For a moment, he wished there wasn't a thin sheet separating them.

"Let them."

They were lying side by side, barely touching. Will couldn't sleep, not like this.

"Sleep, Will."

"...I can't."

More shuffling. A hand landed atop his head, fingers running through his curls.

"Sleep. I'll be here when you awake," Hannibal said as he began stroking Will's hair.

Will leaned into the touch. "You and your obsession with my hair, seriously..." he muttered sleepily.

Hannibal smiled and listened as Will's breathing evened out. Only when he was sure that Will was asleep, did he allow himself to do the same.

.

.

.

They encountered no trouble on the road - not even a single bandit - and reached the village of Wolf Trap without any fuss. Hannibal decided to set up camp in the village outskirts, close enough to lend aid should anything happen, but far enough where there was more open space.

Wolf Trap was the closest village to the capital, and it was where they predicted the monster would most likely strike next.

Will was tense, eyes cast out towards the edge of the forest. It was dark, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. An ominous feeling had settled deep in his gut for the past few hours. He had mentioned this to Hannibal, of course. Hannibal hadn't taken his words lightly and had guards stationed and alert throughout the camp and the village.

Will, Hannibal, and a few of his Knights were attending a meeting with the village leader when Will felt all air rush out from his lungs, as if his chest being crushed by some unknown force. His sight darkened at the edges, and a familiar voice reached out to him, alarmed and fearful.

_'South of the village; it is approaching fast from across the river!'_

Will darted out of the tent, eyes focused on the darkness of the forest beyond the river. Hannibal was at his side, barking orders at his men. Amidst all the chaos, Will closed his eyes to block out as much of the visual distractions as he could. He listened...

_'Twenty seconds...'_

Will repeated the words that echoed in his mind. Hannibal drew his sword. It was too late for Will to run, now.

The clouds passed, moonlight shining down upon the field once more. All was still and quiet, breaths held in anticipation. The weight of the dagger on his arm seemed impossibly heavier.

A blur of movement. Red, glowing eyes.

Then, a choked gurgle.

One of the soldier's head rolled to Will's feet. Blood splashed onto his legs as the rest of the organs in the body followed, spilling onto the ground in a torrent from a gaping hole in the man's abdomen. Will stumbled back, gasping.

All hell broke loose, after that.

The beast was huge - it stood twice Will's height at least from head to toe. It stood on its two hind-legs like a human being. The comparison sent shivers down his spine. Its body was a strange combination of scales on fur, the scales glimmering under the moonlight like jewels.

With a spin, it used its long, spiked tail to swipe across the ground, sending men sprawling to the ground. It pounced on them and tore them apart, innards raining the ground.

It set its eyes on Beverly next. Will's heart gave a lurch. Beverly - having seen this coming - deflected its claws with a quick parry. She brought her sword down on the creature's body a few times to little effect. She retreated. Price landed an arrow in its neck. Against all logic, the arrow bounced off its scaly armour, but that didn't stop the archers. The creature turned, its attention drawn by the volley of arrows that followed soon after.

A few soldiers threw an iron cage over the beast in an attempt to keep it from moving, but the monster shredded the iron like a hot knife through butter with its teeth. The men were sent tumbling to the ground from the sheer force of the monster's attack. It raised its arm, ready to bring it down on the helpless soldiers at its feet.

Moving swiftly, Hannibal slashed down at the creature's arm; it dropped to the ground with a plop, blood fountaining from the wound. Will's eyes widened - that must be the enchantment at work! The creature howled, retreating a dozen paces back.

The battle carried on, numerous men trying in vain to tackle down the beast and pierce its scaly armour. Hannibal continued slashing at the creature's back, painting long, jagged wounds along its back. He ordered his men to stab their swords and aim their arrows at the wounds, where the scales were gone and the flesh beneath exposed. Zeller threw a javelin - it flew straight and true - and impaled the monster easily where they weren't any scales.

They had the creature stumbling on its feet. It began retreating towards the forest it came from.

That is, until it laid eyes on Will.

 _'...You_ see _.'_

The words stood out sharp in his mind. Surprise and relief - these were the two emotions Will was receiving from it. The creature hadn't opened his mouth at all - it was projecting its thoughts, its desire to kill and maim, its bloodlust - to Will. Will's fingers twitched with an itch - a need - to pull out the blade strapped to his arm. To do _what_ , exactly?

 _'Do you_ see _? See, see,_ see _!'_

Will clasped his hands over his ears, the words leaving his mouth before he could process them, "Shut up! Leave me alone!" He couldn't tell what language his words were. Pain bloomed in the back of his mind.

"Empath!" "Will!" "Run, Will!"

Dozens of voices washed over him, overwhelming in their collective intensity. He could feel their gazes on him.

Concern. Panic. Confusion. Anger. Hurt. Pain---

_'You see how I see. You're just like me-'_

"I'm not like you!" Will screeched in the language of Symbols, tears coming to his eyes. "I'll never become something like you! Never!" His body began shivering uncontrollably. He suddenly found it difficult to breathe, hand clutching at the fabric over his heart. Will collapsed to his knees.

Ire filled him. It was his - it was the creature's - it was both, maddeningly combined.

The creature approached, its body looming over him, its shadow blanketing his huddled form on the ground.

"Will!"

Hannibal.

A clawed hand flew down at Will. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced for the impact.

The impact never came.

With a thud, a body landed and rolled like a rag doll across the ground a short distance away - Hannibal. His sword slipped out of his limp, blood-coated hands.

Will paled.

His body acted on his own.

Dashing forward, Will grasped the sword. The creature lunged towards them. Time slowed to a crawl, scenes of a life he had never lived flashed before his mind's eye---

_Garrett Jacob Hobbs; druid; daughter dead; wife killed; betrayal; pain pain pain---_

Will pierced the blade through Hobbs' heart. Beneath the obsidian scales, was a man - his transformation fuelled by dark anger and his need for vengeance, his heart and mind twisted ugly by forces unimaginable into something that was no longer human.

The monster's body twitched as spasms coursed through its body and then it went still.

Fingers slick with blood, Will gave the body a mighty shove, pushing it onto its side on the ground.

Hannibal---

Will crawled to Hannibal's side, eyes running along his form to survey the damage.

There was a long gash on the side of his torso. It bled profusely, the black pool of blood growing steadily larger with every passing moment.

Blood dripped off from them, black in the moonlight.

Will looked up at the moon, eyes wide and pleading.

_'Please, save him, you must save him---'_

_'The laws of equivalent exchange dictate that-'_

_'I don't care! I've lived long enough- Save Hannibal!'_

_'My dear child, you must listen-'_

_'Please-'_

"Will," Hannibal gasped out, his eyes fixed on Will's own. Hannibal had a knowing look in his eyes. "It's okay, Will. D-Don't do anything foolish-"

This was the final moment they would ever share in this lifetime, Will came to realise, regardless of what happened next.

"Listen to me, W-Will. Don't you dare-"

" _I will find you_ ," Will forced out, voice weak and trembling. "I will _always_ find you." Leaning down, Will pressed a kiss to Hannibal's lips. He gently caressed Hannibal's face, committing it to memory as hot tears trailed down his cheeks, cutting through the blood splattered onto his face.

Hannibal stared up at him, stunned speechless. Will could see the pain and the confusion reflected in those dark, maroon eyes.

"I will find you, Hannibal..." Will whispered, "...Like I always have. If not in the next lifetime, then in the ones that will come."

Will laid down to rest, his body exhausted beyond anything he had ever experienced. He rested his head on Hannibal's torso, listening as Hannibal's heart beat fast and strong. The moon's magic was already working, it seemed.

The last thing he ever saw was the glint of moonlight on Hannibal's sword.

He gladly fell into Morpheus' embrace, lulled into the realm of slumber and dreams by the sounds of Hannibal's own beating heart.

Everything fell away.

.

.

.

Reincarnation was a strange thing, Will thought.

The cycle always began with destruction. The world as he knew it would fall away into nothingness, his consciousness - his soul, he liked to call it - would float aimlessly though the void, the space between time, until it was time for him to be called back to the realm of the living.

Sometimes, he would dream.

His dreams were filled with faces of ages past. Familiar faces. Their names were sometimes different, but somehow, Will found that the universe had a strange way of making coincidences happen.

It was almost like Fate.

Sometimes, his dreams weren't dreams.

He imagined that was what it felt like to be a ghost, tethered to the living realm and unable to complete the reincarnation cycle.

But for now, Will closed his eyes - there was nothing to see, here in the void, anyway - and let the currents drag him around through the endless dark.

.

.

.

Years passed. Will hardly noticed the passing of time. Lives blurred into one another until he found himself starting life anew again as a newborn child in Louisiana.

.

.

.

The moon was bright and whole, tonight.

Moonlight caught on the teardrop pendant he held in his hands. It had taken him years to track it down, but eventually, Will had found it in the hands of an antique trader in Belgium. It helped that he had a sort of connection to it and was always able to sort of tell where it was.

The trader had been unwilling to part with it, so Will boarded a plane to Belgium and decided to have a chat with said trader.

The store was small and nondescript. The blinds were pulled over the windows. Through cracks between the blinds, Will could see that the interior was dark. With a whispered word, the door clicked open.

Opening the door, Will deftly reached up and pressed a finger against the small bell at the corner of the door, stopping it from ringing. Closing the door gently behind him, Will stepped into the premises, taking in the odd mishmash of objects populating the shelves and the insides of the glass counters.

He found the owner of said establishment upstairs, cleaning a set of antique china.

"Hello," Will greeted. "A fine day for a visit, no?"

The human panicked and reached for a gun he had hidden beneath his work desk. He pointed its barrel down at Will's head. Will tutted in disapproval. With a few whispered words, the gun jammed when the man pulled the trigger.

Will had spent his previous lifetimes well. He taught himself some things.

"So... You attempted to kill me just then. What's to be done about that?"

.

.

.

He could recognise that figure from anywhere.

Will positioned his glasses strategically so as to block direct eye contact. He took a deep breath as he walked into Jack Crawford's office.

Will sat down on one of the empty chairs, deliberately not looking at the man to his left. Hannibal made his presence known wherever he went. Even right now, while sitting in Jack's office, Hannibal's presence was what filled the space.

"So, tell me then, how many confessions?"

"Twelve dozen last time I checked. None of them knew details. Until this morning. Then everyone knew details. Some genius in Duluth PD took a picture of Elise Nichols’ body with their phone and shared it with a few close friends. Freddy Lounds ran it on Tattlecrime.com," Jack said to Hannibal, lips set in a thin line.

Will blinked. "Tasteless," he said.

"Do you have trouble with taste?" Hannibal asked, eyes focused on his.

"My thoughts are often not tasty."

"Nor mine. No effective barriers."

 _Oh, he had missed this._ Inwardly, Will smiled.

"I build forts." The corners of Will's lips twitched upwards.

"Associations come quickly."

"So do forts."

"Not terribly fond of eye contact, are you?"

"Eyes are distracting. You see too much, you don’t see enough..." Will said with almost a shrug. "So I try to avoid eyes whenever possible."

"I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love."

Letting indignant anger fill him, Will turned to Jack. "Whose profile is he working on?"

"I’m sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off," Hannibal said before Jack could get a word in.

"Please," Will gritted out. This time, he stared back at Hannibal, meeting those maroon eyes confidently and almost challengingly. "Don't psychoanalyse me. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalysed."

Will left, after that, saying how he had to go give a lecture - on psychoanalysing.

Once through the door and away from the one man who could see through him, Will smiled. He was barely able to contain the newfound excitement and anticipation that had risen up in him from seeing Hannibal alive and whole.

_'I've found you, Hannibal.'_

**Author's Note:**

> For updates on my writing, check out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/xyrilyn)!
> 
> This is a standalone fic.
> 
> I might continue (either with one of Will's previous lifetimes or continuing from their first meeting in Jack's office) but the muse is done for now, so I make no promises.
> 
> As for whether Will killed the antiques trader: I leave that up to you ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story <3


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